


All's Fair in Love and War

by asilentherald



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oblivious Merlin, Pining Arthur, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asilentherald/pseuds/asilentherald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin (literally) runs into Arthur Pendragon and, after Arthur dumps a bucket on his head, he decides they're mortal enemies. A prank war ensues in which coworkers act like five-year-olds, Merlin is oblivious to what Arthur's trying to say, and he learns that, sometimes, people get burned. For real. And that a prat might turn out to be a pretty decent guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All's Fair in Love and War

**Author's Note:**

> For a friend's one-word prompt, "enemy." It, uh, kind of exploded. Enjoy :)  
> (also, this is unbeta'd, so I offer my apologies)

It happened when Merlin was carrying several boxes of files up the stairs. The new intern, Mordred, opened the door to the stairwell and nearly knocked Merlin right in the nose.

“Oh! Sorry!” Mordred sputtered. He held the door open for Merlin, who assured him it was fine, even it hadn’t rubbed him the right way. He’d already stepped on his cat’s tail that morning and had a magnificent pattern of scratches on his arms as a result of it. Merlin was convinced Kilgarrah was really a dragon instead of some excuse for a feline.

Mordred waited until Merlin was through the door before letting it shut behind him. Merlin paused at the corner of the hall to adjust his grip on the boxes when someone barreled right into him, knocking him flat on the ground. One of the boxes landed painfully on his leg; Merlin loosed an undignified yelp and flailed. When he looked around, there were papers and files scattered about him and there was a man in a stained white shirt shouting furiously at him.

“You have coffee on your shirt,” Merlin blurted.

“Yes, and it’s _your_ fault, you complete idiot!” the man raged.

“Oh! God, I’m sorry. Can—here, I’ll help—”

“Oh, no, you’ve done enough damage. For all I know you’ll end up setting my clothes on fire. Now clean up this mess and get back to work.”

The man stepped right over Merlin and stormed away, continuing to mutter angrily. Merlin gaped at his back (and his perfectly formed arse, but Merlin wasn’t about to admit that) until the man disappeared around the corner.

“ _Prat!_ ” he shouted after him.

“Who’s a prat? And why are you on the floor?”

Merlin looked up. Gwen was looking at him curiously, clutching her coffee mug tightly. She eyed the stained papers and gave Merlin a meaningful look.

“I was bringing these files to Gaius when that—that cabbage head knocked me over!” Merlin said. “He was rude.”

“You know that’s Arthur, right?”

“ _The_ Arthur?”

“Morgana’s brother. Yes,” Gwen smirked. “He can be a bit insensitive,” she said, biting her lip.

“A bit?”

Gwen knelt and started helping Merlin collect the papers. They were all out of order and in the wrong places now; it was going to take at least the rest of the day to reorganize the files. Merlin grumbled highly inappropriate and unkind under his breath. Gwen giggled.

“He’s the CEO’s son, Merlin. You can’t say things like that about him.”

“What, I can’t call him a pompous arse with a several sticks stuck so far up his—”

“Okay, Merlin,” Gwen interrupted, laughing, “let’s get you back to Gaius before you get yourself fired.”

Gwen helped him carry the boxes back to the lab and promised to cook his favorite dish for dinner.

“That’s only if you shut up about Arthur,” Gwen added.

“What? I haven’t said—”

“You’ve been complaining about him all the way down here! So, stop, if you want to be fed tonight.”

“Fine, mother.”

Gwen gave him a warning look before leaving Merlin to his work. A couple of hours passed before Merlin left the lab’s office again. En route to the bathroom he ran into no one other than Arthur Pendragon. Literally. Again.

“Oof!” Merlin gasped.

“Watch where you’re—oh. It’s you again,” Arthur said, jumping back. Merlin glared at him, eyes narrowed and body already on the defensive. Arthur’s full lips twisted into a smirk. “That’s twice in one day you’ve assaulted me.”

“Me? Assault? You—you’re full of crap!”

“You can’t talk to me like that!” Arthur sputtered. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that.

“Why the hell not? It’s the truth! Clearly no one’s told you that you’re a massive prat, so the responsibility lies with me.”

“I could have you fired.”

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Hey! You—”

Merlin was already walking away from Arthur.

“Aw, don’t run away!”

“From you?” Merlin scoffed. He rounded on Arthur. “What are you, five years old?”

“Me? You’re the one calling me a prat!”

“And a cabbage head, while we’re at it.”

“Cabbage—what on earth are you on about?”

Merlin shook his head, smiling to himself. “You’re so _full_ of it, Arthur.”

Arthur’s slightly playful countenance instantly froze over. His smile went from mildly amused to cold and furious. He turned to the mop and bucked on the floor beside them.

“Tell you what. You ruined my other shirt,” Arthur said, indicating his crisp blue shirt. “You feel bad, don’t you?”

“I did, but not an—”

“Here. I’ll show you how you can make it up to me.”

Before Merlin could protest, Arthur dumped the bucket of soapy water over his head; Arthur laughed softly when Merlin’s ears nearly caught on the sides of the bucket. He let the bucket dangle over his face.

“There. A shirt for a shirt. Seems fair, don’t you think?”

Merlin yanked the bucket off his head and wiped furiously at his face. His eyes stung from the soap in the water still dripping from his hair. Arthur looked ridiculously pleased with himself, taking in the sight of Merlin drenched in the water in the middle of the hallway. He crossed his arms and stood back to admire his work.

“I don’t have a spare, you pillock!” Merlin shouted, still failing to dry his face.

Arthur shrugged, seeming entirely unconcerned; he only smiled more widely. Then, he turned around and left; before he turned the corner, Arthur burst out laughing just loudly enough for Merlin to hear. Merlin gaped—then coughed on the water still streaming into his mouth.

That was the day Merlin met his mortal enemy, Arthur Pendragon.

 

It only escalated from there. Merlin hoped they wouldn’t run into each other again, but it seemed that Gaius’s office and lab were close to Arthur’s office, and there was only one bathroom between them. That certainly made for some interesting encounters, Merlin learned.

Such as the next day, when Merlin was on his way back from lunch: he passed by the toilets and tripped over something. He barely caught himself (and his iced tea) and landed hard on his knees.

“Shit,” he muttered. Then, two shiny shoes materialized before him.

“Learning how to walk on your knees?” Arthur Pendragon asked, looking supremely smug. From his knees, he also looked a little beautiful, Merlin admitted, but his shit-eating grin ruined it all.

“Don’t you wish,” Merlin said with a wink. Color rose on Arthur’s cheeks. _Much better than a simple fuck you,_ Merlin thought proudly. He stood up and walked away. He hoped that even if he encountered Arthur again, they wouldn’t exchange any words or gestures. Merlin hoped they’d be civil. But, in the end, they were anything _but_.

Arthur quickly learned in which office Merlin worked. He stopped by the following Monday morning a few days later to speak to Gaius about the latest developments in his biochemical research, pausing by Merlin’s desk as he and the older man conversed. Merlin pointedly ignored him; he was still half-asleep, having only had one cup of coffee so far. Arthur gripped the back of Merlin’s chair and leaned slightly against it, his long legs and hips close to Merlin’s face. Merlin ignored the blush that threatened to rise with the terrible _terrible_ thoughts in his head, but he hardly had the chance to control himself. The chair suddenly gave way, rolling forward and leaning backward abruptly, and Merlin was sprawled on the ground at Arthur’s feet but half a second later.

“I apologize, that was my fault,” Arthur said, flashing a perfect, commercial smile—though it wasn’t empty. There was something feral and simultaneously playful in it meant for Merlin alone. Merlin smiled back, meeting him measure for measure.

“God, do you just like getting me on the floor?”

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. Merlin stood and his back cracked audibly. He winced; Arthur gave him a reproachful look, the kind Gwen gave him when he ate a whole bag of mini Mars Bars and drank most of a pack of beer in one sitting. It might have passed for mildly concerned. Merlin pulled a face.

“I should get that checked out.”

“Mmm, that’s a good idea; perhaps your head, too,” Arthur said, obviously feigning seriousness now.

“My head?” Merlin frowned, touching the back of his head.

“I think you might have some kind of mental affliction. At least, that’s what my father noted in your file when he hired you,” Arthur added, going for innocence but sounding far more gleeful than anything.

“You—”

“Have a nice day, _Mer_ lin.”

With that, Arthur flounced out the door and down the hall. Merlin watched his receding back and listened to his stupid laugher, taking it all as a declaration of all-out war. Oh, this was a game Merlin knew how to play, and one he was determined to win.

***

The rest of the week was relatively quiet, but only because Merlin intentionally kept his head low in order to observe Arthur’s daily schedule and habits. Two or three times he and Arthur crossed paths and Arthur always gave him the same amused/feral look. Merlin always rolled his eyes. Once it earned him a passing playful shove, which ended up as an exchange of shoves and half a chase down the hall, after which they both ended up laughing when they parted ways. Merlin was thoroughly weirded out after that, but it was no reason to back down.

On Friday evening, Gwen was setting out the take-away she’d ordered from the Chinese restaurant around the corner when Merlin came home.

“Tell me some of that is for me,” Merlin said, mouth watering. He reached into a container for a spring roll only to have his hand slapped away.

“Some of it,” Gwen said. “Lance is coming over.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Merlin said flatly. “No, it’s fine. Just don’t forget how thin the walls are.”

Gwen glared at him.

“What? I didn’t get a wink of sleep last time he came around!”

“Don’t be a baby, Merlin. Haven’t you got some place to go?”

“Well, not since Will and I broke up,” Merlin started.

“That was over a year ago,” she said pointedly. “Really, now, you’re not old and wasting away. You should be enjoying yourself. Go find a nice boy and get laid.”

“Gwen….”

“Merlin, I know you’re _recovering_ but part of that is actually getting back out there,” she said. “Eat up and go, or find someplace else to sleep.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“You did this to me plenty of times when you had Will over! I’m cashing in my kindness. I’m _asking_ rather than letting you come home to find Lance bending me over the counter—”

“That was _one time_ , Gwen, and you weren’t supposed to be home for another few hours!” Merlin exclaimed.

“Fine. But go down to the pub. Get Gwaine.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose. “Fit as he is, I’m not going down that road.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes. “Get him to help you out or something, if you really don’t think you can pull anyone on your own.”

“I never said that!”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“My spring rolls!”

Gwen stared at him expectantly.

“There’s something else,” Merlin realized. “Spit it out, Gwen.”

“Oh—oh, alright. You need to shut up about Arthur,” she said. “There. I said it. You’re a tad obsessed, or falling arse-over-tits for the man.”

Merlin spluttered incoherently.

“You can’t be serious!” he said.

“Oh, I am,” she said sweetly. “Have you heard yourself this last week? You either think the sun shines out of his shiny hair or you want to beat him into a hole. Either way you want your lonely little hands all over him.”

“Gwen!”

“Merlin—”

“ _Fine_. I’ll go,” he conceded. Gwen beamed victoriously. “But I’m not staying over anywhere. I’ll be back by two.”

“Yes, sir!” she said with a salute, handing Merlin his spring rolls. He collapsed on the couch and was halfway through the first one when the doorbell rang. Gwen disappeared in Lance’s arms the moment she opened the door. They were a disgustingly perfect couple. Merlin grabbed his coat and slipped out before Gwen even noticed; he waved at Lance over Gwen’s shoulder before he closed the door behind him.

It was quiet in the hall, but Merlin didn’t mind. His head was buzzing loudly enough. Merlin sat on the steps to his flat from the street and listened to the cars go by while he finished his spring rolls. Then, he took a long, long walk.

Merlin ended up all the way by Pendragon Corp, which was five or six tube stops away. He didn’t realize just how far he’d gone, but now that he was by the pub down the road from work where Gwaine was surely talking up every patron at the bar, Merlin didn’t mind.

As he passed Pendragon Corp, he heard the doors to the building open and shut, even though it was well past operating hours. Merlin looked over his shoulder; he’d have recognized that head of golden hair anywhere. Everything else about Arthur’s countenance was the opposite of the cocky pratface he saw during the day. His shoulders were slumped and his voice sounded flat and exhausted as he spoke into his mobile.

The parked car Merlin was passing by lit up. He looked up from the ground and turned around. Arthur was staring at him curiously. His whole body tensed up and he closed his mobile.

“Merlin,” he said curtly. “Out for a stroll?”

“Heading to the pub,” he said, pointing down the road. “Working late?”

“Obviously.”

“Right. Er. See you Monday.”

Merlin gave him a tiny, awkward wave and walked away, ignoring Arthur’s mildly disgusted look. The street was quiet but for his footsteps and Arthur getting into his car (of course he had a shiny car. _Of course_. Couldn’t he just take the Tube like a normal person?). Merlin was about to cross the road when a horn fucking _blared_ right in his ear. He jumped and shouted and nearly fell over right in the middle of the road. Arthur, in his stupid car, was right next to him, laughing his head off. He waved back at Merlin before speeding off down the road.

“What… a fucking _arse_.”

He ended up staying long past two in the morning with Gwaine at the pub; when Gwaine asked why the long face and the drowning of sorrows, Merlin only said, “not sorrows. I’m drowning _Arthur_ ,” before taking another shot of something very strong and disgusting.

He blamed Arthur for the hangover that nearly lasted into Sunday. Gwen stopped telling him to shut up about Arthur sometime on Saturday afternoon, realizing it was a lost cause. By the time Sunday night came around, Merlin was more determined than ever to exact his careful revenge against Arthur Pendragon.

***

On Monday morning, he went down the hall to Arthur’s office to speak to his secretary, Freya. She was shy and soft-spoken, but she was a good friend to Merlin since she’d moved to London and gotten lost on her way to her interview. Merlin had helped and she was eternally grateful, so they went out to dinner and were thick as thieves since then.

“Freya!” Merlin said, descending on her desk bearing a cup of coffee. “How are you doing on this fine morning?”

She looked up from her computer, looking distinctly unamused.

“What favor do you need, Merlin?” she asked.

“Favor? You wound me.”

“You’ve been hanging around Gwaine too much, dear,” she said. Freya resumed typing up a letter to one of Arthur’s contacts, as far as Merlin could see over her shoulder. “Now, what is it you need?”

“I met your boss.”

“I’m not getting you his phone number, or anything involving you and him in any nonprofessional context.”

Merlin’s mouth fell opened. He sputtered incoherently.

“Merlin, I’m only joking.”

“Right. It _is_ about Arthur, though.”

“Go on.”

“He’s a prat.”

“Mmm. What about that?”

“I want to teach him a lesson. Multiple lessons, actually.”

“Of course you do.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re going to get yourself fired if you try anything with him,” Freya said seriously.

“He dumped a bucket of water on my head! And then he pushed me out of my chair—in my own office! And—that man has declared war on me. I need to fight back! Stop it, Freya, this isn’t funny!”

“Oh, it’s _serious_ , Merlin. Look, I admire your spirit here, but Arthur isn’t the type who loses. Strange as it is—and it _is_ strange, as he really doesn’t interact with anyone other than me and Uther and his sister—he’s going to take this seriously.”

“That’s my point! I have to be prepared! I have to retaliate. There will be _bloodshed_. It’s going to be a massacre on my end if I don’t do anything. You’ve got to help me.”

“Me?” Freya asked, looking at Merlin with huge brown eyes. “You’re joking. I’m _not_ risking my job for some game you’re playing with my boss. I’m lucky to be here, Merlin. I’m not doing this. Sorry.”

“I—just distract him while he’s getting his coffee this afternoon.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“I, er. I have a plan. I swear if I get caught, you won’t have anything to do with it. Just make my life a little easier. Pretty please, Freya? With sugar and strawberries on top?”

“I do love strawberries,” Freya said, softening. “Bring me some tomorrow and it’s a deal.”

“Absolutely. Oh! Wait! There’s a strawberry festival next weekend in Avalon; I’ll take you next weekend, if you’d like.”

Freya smiled. “I’d love that.”

“Great,” Merlin said, beaming. He raised his Styrofoam cup, toasting her, and left to spend the several hours at his desk. He was _still_ organizing the mess of mixed papers and files from when he and Arthur had first collided.

“You look pleased,” Gaius noted when he entered the office.

“I am! I just spoke to Freya.”

“She’s a lovely girl.”

“Oh, that’s not—well, yes, she is, but—”

Gaius gave him a look, his eyebrow raised. Merlin shrank sheepishly.

“Come. We’ve plenty of work to get done this week. The papers can work. We’ll be in the lab today,” Gaius said. “In a few days we’ll be getting that new assistant Uther hired for us. He’s been down in PR paperwork for the last two weeks, but tomorrow you’ll start training him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Mordred. He’s a curious young man. Quiet, but I think he’ll do well.”

“I thought he was just an intern?” Merlin frowned.

“He was, under Morgana; but I believe she pulled some strings and got him properly hired,” Gaius said. “Have you met him yet?”

“Sort of,” Merlin muttered.

His first encounter with Mordred had been unusual Merlin was willing to admit. He’d been at the pub down the road with Gwen and Freya a few weeks prior when Mordred stumbled out of the loo, Morgana on his heels looking far more composed than Mordred. Gwen had pointedly examined the contents of her glass while Freya and Merlin speculated behind their hands. The next Monday morning, Merlin had found himself in the lift with Mordred; he’d looked lost, and Merlin had hoped to figure out what exactly was going on with him and Morgana.

“D’you need help?” he asked when Merlin stepped off the lift.

“Er, yeah. Someone told me to go to the twentieth floor to sign in, but….”

“There isn’t one,” Merlin finished for him. He laughed. “It wasn’t Gwaine, was it? The bloke who loiters by the entrance instead of working?”

“The one with the—,” Mordred waved at his hair. Merlin nodded. “Right. Yeah.”

“Gwaine pulled that one on me when I started here, too,” Merlin said. “He thinks he’s hilarious. Where’re you headed?”

“To, er, PR, I think? I’m an intern. I don’t really want to do PR but it was the only offer I got, so….”

“That’ll be the ninth floor. Watch out for Morgana; she’s got teeth and claws and she’s not afraid to use them.”

“Oh, I know.”

Mordred had instantly turned deep red. He hastily thanked Merlin and had hit the _door close_ button repeatedly. That was all the proof Merlin had needed to know that Morgana had a new pet.

***

“I think she likes him,” Gaius noted. Mordred was hunched over the microscope at the far end of the lab bench with Morgana hovering at his side with a manicured hand on his shoulder. Merlin swore he could feel the heat radiating off poor Mordred from the other end of the room.

“Definitely more than the last one,” Merlin replied, crossing his arms against the sterile cold of the lab. He checked his watch. “I’m getting tea; want some?”

“Please, Merlin.”

Merlin smiled and set off, leaving his lab coat on the rack in his and Gaius’s office. He looked over his shoulder again, just to be certain Gaius wasn’t watching, before diving into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling out several packets of salt. Merlin set off at a brisk walk for the break room.

It was two in the afternoon. Arthur always went to the break room to refill his coffee. Merlin walked by Arthur’s office; Freya gave him a thumbs-up as he passed. Merlin could hear Arthur talking on his phone in the break room; he sounded annoyed, but somewhere in the string of heated words, the other person said something that made him throw his head back and laugh.

Merlin was mesmerized.

When Arthur returned to prattling on about a recent deal with a drug company, Merlin walked into the break room. Arthur didn’t pay attention to him. Merlin set about pouring out the hot water and preparing the tea bags and sugar, waiting for the next step to happen.

Right on cue, Freya entered the break room.

“Arthur, your father’s on the line. He says it’s urgent and to stop avoiding his calls.”

Arthur said nothing for a moment.

“Tell him I’ll call him in ten minutes,” he said. “I’m finishing up discussing with the Mercia deal with Morgana.”

“Five, Arthur. He sent files, too.”

Arthur made a scathing sound and followed Freya out of the office, asking about the file—and leaving his coffee behind. Merlin took his chance and lunged for the coffee. He felt like a child dumping salt packet after salt packet into the cup but he didn’t care. It was _worth it_ to make the first real strike of the week.

He stood back against the other side of the counter and picked up his own cup. Merlin waited patiently.

Arthur stormed back into the break room with a file under his arm and his phone on stuck between his ear and shoulder. This time he looked up at Merlin but he didn’t seem to be in the mood to do anything but get back to work. Merlin raised his cup to his lips to hide his grin—

And he was promptly drenched in scalding tea. Merlin dropped his cup like a hot coal and nearly jumped back on top of the counter. His ears were pounding, his heart racing. His entire front was drenched in tea and, while his shirt now smelled of earl grey, Merlin could feel his skin burning and breaking underneath. _Fuck._ When his heart finally calmed down and he could hear again, the only sound he heard was Arthur’s laughter.

“You—should—you should have _seen_ your face!” he guffawed, hunched over the counter holding his sides. “God, I wish I’d recorded that. You jumped three feet in the air!”

Merlin couldn’t speak. If he didn’t feel like the skin on his chest was being peeled away by a hot iron clamp, he probably would have jumped on Arthur and started hitting him.

But he wasn’t about to let Arthur get away with that.

Merlin reached into the cabinet and found a pack of confectioner’s sugar leftover from when Gwen had made lemon squares but didn’t have time to dust them at home. He tore the clamp off the bag, took up a handful, and chucked it at Arthur’s shiny golden hair. He threw another handful at the back of his neck and down the back of his shirt for good measure. Merlin stepped back smugly, holding the bag of sugar like a prized weapon.

Arthur turned around slowly. His face looked frozen from when he was laughing, but there was definitely a confused twist to his mouth. He reached up, touched his white hair, and sucked the sugar off his finger. Merlin tried not to watch—and Arthur noticed.

“That’s very, uh, _sweet_ of you, Merlin. Thanks.”

Arthur crowded Merlin against the counter, nearly pinning him at the hips but for a few inches between them. Merlin leaned back and hit his head against the cabinet. Arthur laughed, shaking some sugar out of his hair onto Merlin. He raised his hand, a look of deep concentration on his face, and brushed a bit off of Merlin’s face with his thumb, simultaneously closing any gap between them.

Right then, right when Merlin was so obviously distracted and incapable of coherent thought, Arthur ripped the bag of sugar out of his hand and dumped the lot onto Merlin’s head.

Merlin tried to blink the sugar out of his eyes, but they were apparently melting onto his eyelashes. He shoved Arthur off of him and stepped away.

“You really can’t do this,” he said as seriously as possible. “I’m pretty sure this is like fifty kinds of harassment.”

“Oh, but that’s no fun! You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Arthur smirked. “Salt in the coffee, Merlin? Really? I expected more of you.”

“And yours was that much better? Punching a hole in a cup you didn’t even know I’d use wasn’t that smart of a plan,” Merlin said.

“No, I knew,” Arthur said, smiling even more widely. “See, you’re not the only one who can watch and observe. You always come in around now to get tea for you and Gaius.”

“Not always!”

“Usually, and in the early afternoon, since Gaius stopped taking black tea in the mornings,” Arthur said. “It wasn’t hard to figure you out.”

“Right,” Merlin said. “So you decided the best thing to do was to trick me into burning myself?”

“You messed with my coffee—twice, now. I don’t take that lightly.”

It certainly didn’t sound like he would. Merlin laughed in spite of himself.

“What? What’s so funny?” Arthur demanded.

“You… look like a total turnip-head,” Merlin cackled. Arthur _did_ look stupid, with his blonde hair and the top half of his shirt coated in sugar, his tie half-undone and completely askew. Arthur ran his hand through his hair—apparently a reflex—and came away with his hand sticky and white. Merlin only laughed harder. He glimpsed Arthur lunge at him through the tears in his eyes.

“What’s going on here?”

Merlin sucked in a sharp breath; Arthur froze mid-step, arms outstretched toward Merlin. Uther Pendragon stood in the doorway, staring at the two grown men covered in sugar. His eyes settled on his son, who’d snapped to attention and was standing with straight back and tense shoulders.

“Arthur. Care to explain why you’re not in your office? I called for an urgent meeting ten minutes ago,” Uther said.

“I was—occupied.”

“I see,” Uther said, his eyes trailing to Merlin. He looked at him like he was a strange bug. “You’re Gaius’s boy.”

“Yes, sir. I was just… getting some tea for him,” Merlin said lamely.

“Of course. And… I don’t want to know what happened here. Just get cleaned up and back to work. Arthur—come see me _now_.”

Uther walked down the hall toward Arthur’s office. A door slammed shut, muffling Freya’s quiet voice as she greeted the CEO. Arthur only relaxed three seconds after the door closed. He ran a hand over his face.

“That was….”

“Close?”

“I was going for _uncomfortable_ , but, yeah, I doubt your father would’ve liked to see me pouring sugar down your shirt.”

“Ugh, this is getting disgusting,” Arthur moaned. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”

“But—”

“Merlin, if you don’t want my father to skin us both alive and possibly fire you, you’ll come with me and get all this goddamn sugar out of my hair.”

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s wrist and pulled him out of the break room all the way to the bathroom, ignoring Merlin’s incoherent protestations all the way. Arthur locked the door of the bathroom behind them.

Merlin was looking at Arthur curiously when he turned back around.

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“What? I didn’t say anything. You’ve just locked us in a bathroom, which is totally normal behavior,” he said innocently. Color rose on Arthur’s cheekbones.

“Just—get over here,” he said, yanking Merlin to the sinks. “God, you really laid it on thick.”

“Thanks, I tried.”

Arthur glared at him and turned the tap on; he stuck his head under the stream. Merlin did the same, and finished well before Arthur, who was meticulously picking clumps of sugar off his scalp. He looked up to find Merlin with his shirt unbuttoned, prodding his chest.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Inspecting the damage,” Merlin winced. The burn was patchy but it was definitely there, and it wasn’t going anywhere. It was worse than Merlin initially thought; _second-degree, maybe? I must’ve been too distracted by the flying sugar to notice_ , he mused. Merlin cautiously dabbed at his chest with a wet paper towel, but he only made it worse. He accidentally pulled off a small chunk of skin. “Fuck!” he gasped, eyes watering. He leaned against the sink. He could feel a small trickle of blood slide down his chest. “Y-you don’t have a first aid kit, do you?”

“You work in a lab. Shouldn’t you have one?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I’ll get it. Your lab is closer than my office.”

“Wait, no, I’m fin—”

“You’re not, Merlin. Just… stay put and try not to pass out,” Arthur said. He unlocked the door and took off at a run, judging by what Merlin heard. It wasn’t much. He was starting to feel lightheaded, now that he’d seen the results of their stupid game. Fortunately Merlin managed to stay on his feet long enough for Arthur to return with the kit. He shook Merlin to consciousness and ushered him into a stall to sit.

Arthur worked silently, crouching before Merlin and cleaning the burns to the best of his abilities. Eventually Merlin waved his hands away.

“Stop, stop. Get a paper towel and wet it with cold water.”

Arthur nodded, lips pressed tightly together, and rose to do just that. Merlin rested his head against the wall of the stall with a loud _thunk_.

“You’re not going to be a girl and pass out on me now, are you?” Arthur asked from the sink.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Squeamish?”

“No, but it’s always different when it’s happening to you,” Merlin replied. “I, uh. I have EMT certification. I’m used to blood and burns and bad things.”

“Really? You don’t seem the type.”

“Type? What type do I seem then, O Wise One?”

Arthur chuckled softly. “Hmm, let’s see. A bit dull, if you’ve learned not to keep a spare shirt at work—I asked Gaius; really, Merlin? Have I taught you nothing?”

“Go on. Enlighten me,” Merlin said without venom.

“You never know when you’ll need a change of clothes, Merlin.”

“I stopped keeping clothes at work when I stopped doing one night stands,” Merlin said softly. He wasn’t really thinking about what was coming out of his mouth, but he was glad he had the sense not to say more about his love life. The pain was only getting worse. “God, this hurts.”

“Don’t be such a girl.”

“Well, thanks. Not that being called a girl is much of an insult.”

Arthur returned with the paper towel and pressed it gently to the burned portion of Merlin’s chest. His breathing instantly evened out and Merlin relaxed.

“Better?”

“Mmm. Much.”

Arthur was brushing his fingers against Merlin. Merlin noticed, but he was suddenly too tired to care and too close to delirium to be able to say or do anything about it. Arthur didn’t even seem to notice, as far as Merlin could tell.

“This is going to make wearing these shirts a bitch,” Merlin half-laughed. Arthur’s face clouded over. He took Merlin’s hand in his own and said,

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt like this. It was just—it was silly and childish and it won’t happen again.”

“Come on, Arthur. I’m not your father. You don’t need to pull that sort of crap with me,” Merlin mumbled. He felt a hell of a lot more tired now. Arthur rose quickly. Merlin heard the tap running. He jerked awake when the cold paper towel slapped against his chest. “Shit! Sorry. I’ll stay awake, I swear.”

“You’d better,” Arthur said. “I am sorry, Merlin. Truly. I didn’t intend for this.”

“I know you’re not a bad guy. You’re an arse, and a load of other annoying things, but you’re not malicious.”

“Let me make it up to you.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Merlin frowned. “Gwen used to talk my ear off about how great you are. She went on about all the great things you’re going to do for the company. It was kind of annoying.”

“Really? Wait, how do you know Gwen?”

“She’s my flatmate.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s not all praises, mind you,” Merlin added. “Don’t let any of that get to your fat head.”

“Oi! Are you calling me fat?” Arthur said, outraged. Merlin laughed; Arthur pressed the paper towel more tightly to his chest to keep it from falling. His fingertips brushed the sensitive skin on Merlin’s side.

“No one. Well, I don’t know. You look fit but you could be wearing layers of Spanx under that shirt,” Merlin laughed. He knew he was getting to a point where he needed to shut his mouth.

“I’ll have you know I’m fighting fit!”

“You’re going to have to prove that,” Merlin giggled. His head gave a throb. “God. Is there any paracetamol there?”

“Erm, I’ll check,” Arthur said, rising. He took Merlin’s hand—which, Merlin only now realized, he hadn’t released for quite some time—and pressed it to his chest. “And no, Merlin, I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“Yeah? What about that you’re not as much of a vengeful arse as you seem to be?”

Arthur returned with two pills. Merlin nodded in thanks; his whole body felt like it was on fire now. Arthur resumed holding the paper towel in place while Merlin swallowed the pills. Arthur was watching him as though he might spontaneously combust.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll take you out for coffee,” Arthur blurted.

“Isn’t that a little ironic?”

“Coffee is serious. This means I’m serious.”

Merlin grinned a little wickedly—or dopily, considering how out of it he felt.

“It’s a date, Pendragon.”

The way Arthur sputtered and blushed was enough to make Merlin smile for the rest of the day. The pain didn’t seem all so bad, honestly, no matter how many times Gaius and Mordred asked.

***

Three days had passed since the break room incident and Arthur insisted on doing his part, so Merlin found himself in Arthur’s office during their lunch break of late. They’d started talking, and yesterday Arthur was late to a meeting with Morgana because of whatever he and Merlin had been discussing.

Freya kept looking over at Arthur’s office door like Merlin was going to jump out to lash out for his prank plan screwing up. She gnawed on her baby carrots nervously.

 “She thinks it was her fault,” Merlin told Arthur. He was watching Freya over Arthur’s shoulder through the little window on the door.

“What?”

“The prank. She helped.”

“You roped my secretary into your evil plans?” Arthur said. “I’m astounded, Merlin. That’s a low blow.”

“Hey! Freya was my friend before she became your secretary. I called in a favor from her,” Merlin said. “Ow! That’s too tight, Arthur. You’re wrapping my chest, not my arm. I need to _breathe_.”

“Quit whining. It needs to be tight.”

“I don’t understand why you insist on doing this.”

“It’s the crippling guilt, Merlin. I have to serve you on hand and foot to feel like a remotely decent human being,” Arthur said with a blinding grin. “Hand me the clips.”

“Shove off,” Merlin smiled back, dropping the clips into his hand. “Is Uther still, er, upset?”

Arthur pulled the gauze even more tightly.

“Ow!”

“He’s still displeased with our antics.”

“How were we supposed to know he’d do exactly what Freya and I had planned for the prank?” Merlin moaned for the tenth time. “She thinks you’re going to fire her. Tell her that’s not true.”

“I will,” Arthur said, sounding exasperated.

“She likes strawberries. Get some for her and she’ll feel better about all this,” Merlin said expertly. Arthur gave him a suggestive look.

“You seem to know what the lady likes, Merlin. Something you’re not telling me?”

“It wouldn’t be any of your business, you prat.”

“Have a little lewd office romance going on, Merlin? Tasting her strawberries, hmm?”

“Oh, stop it, Arthur . Freya and _lewd_ don’t generally go in the same string of thoughts,” Merlin muttered. Arthur shrugged, but he was smiling all the same. “And the answer is _no_. She’s like a sister to me. The most romantic relationship I have right now is with my cat.”

“That’s pretty sad, Merlin,” said Arthur, sitting on the edge of his desk. He stretched his long legs out and kicked at Merlin’s ankles. He turned around and stuck his tongue out at Arthur.

“You’re here all the time! You can’t tell me you’re much better, unless you’ve already roped some poor man or woman into marrying you,” Merlin added. Merlin pulled his undershirt gingerly over his head. His whole chest smarted at the movement. Arthur rose quickly and helped Merlin into his shirt. Arthur’s face was slightly flushed, his gaze simultaneously focused and tender, and damn it all if he didn’t look a little beautiful to Merlin.

“That’s none of your business, Merlin. You’re overstepping.”

Merlin grinned, but he held his tongue. Just then the door opened. Morgana Pendragon stopped short.

“Ah, Merlin. I didn’t realize you and my brother were so... comfortable with each other,” she said, nodding at Merlin’s state of undress. He quickly grabbed his button-down from where it hung on Arthur’s desk chair. Morgana smirked, though there was no malice in her expression, and turned back to Arthur, who looked nearly as red as his tie. “Arthur, you are ready to present on the Mercia deal, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I always?” Arthur asked, rolling his eyes. He swiped a blue file off the desk. “I told you this yesterday. What do you need?”

“I want to go through it once more.”

“Morgana, it’s not that complicated.”

“Humor me. You can play with Merlin later,” she said with a curt nod toward Merlin. He ducked out of the room without a second thought. The door slammed loudly behind him.

Freya was staring.

“You look more disheveled than usual,” she said. Merlin perched on the edge of her desk. “Anything you’re not telling me?”

“We’ve called a bit of a truce, I think.”

“Temporary? Permanent?”

“I’m not sure. I think he feels bad for getting me all burnt, so he’s being nice,” Merlin said.

“And?”

“It’s… not unpleasant.”

Freya beamed up at him. “Are we still set for the strawberry festival on Saturday?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it,” Merlin said. “I’ll pick you up at eleven, Saturday morning?”

“Sound brilliant,” she said, still smiling, albeit a little more tightly than usual. Merlin stood and finished buttoning his shirt.

“I’ve got to get back to work. Tell Arthur he still owes me coffee, yeah?”

“Gladly.”

Merlin waved and left Arthur’s office. He stopped at the bathroom and when he made it back to the lab, he found Mordred and Gaius in the lab. He put on his lab coat, ignoring the strain on the burns, and went to work.

 

Friday afternoon, Merlin found Freya crying in the hall, curled up around a corner that no one usually walked. Merlin was only down there to go to the archives at the end of the hall.

“Freya?” he asked cautiously. “Are you okay?”

She looked like she’d already cried all her tears and was left with just the aftertaste.

“No,” she sniffed. Freya wiped at her nose and patted the floor beside her. “I’ll explain quickly. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I won’t. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s…,” she stopped and took a steadying breath. “I’ve never told you about my family. They were good people. We lived next to this lake up north. It was like heaven when the flowers bloomed in the summer and the sun passed through the leaves.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

“It was,” she nodded. Freya pulled her legs close to her chest and hugged them tightly. Merlin wrapped his arm around her and told her to go on. “The summer before I moved to London, they were murdered. The man’s name was Halig; he’d had business dealings with good people like my father, and a lot of other people, some really terrible ones, too. I still think there was a misunderstanding, that he had his information wrong, but he came after all of us. I got away, but he knows I’m alive. And… just now, when I was out getting lunch, I saw him, in the square, and he saw me.”

She was crying again.

“Merlin, I’m so scared. I….”

“You’re leaving,” Merlin realized. He pulled away enough to look at her face.

“I have to! I can’t stay here, not now that he’s seen me.”

“London is massive! He’ll never—”

“He will,” she insisted. “He is ruthless, and he will find me. I need to leave as soon as possible.”

“We can protect you. I’ll take care of you. I’ll go with you!” Merlin said wildly. He could feel the desperation cracking his voice. “Please, Freya. I know it’s selfish but I don’t want you to leave.”

She gave a small laugh, though it hardly escaped her lips.

“I don’t know why you’re so good to me,” she said softly.

“I love you, that’s why, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Likewise,” she said weakly. “You’re a good friend, Merlin.”

“I’ll come by yours after work to help you get your things together,” Merlin said. “We’ll leave tonight.”

“Merlin—”

“No. I need to make sure you get out of London safely, at the very least,” Merlin said, locking her eyes in his gaze. “Let me do that for you.”

Freya said nothing, but she didn’t protest, so Merlin took it as a yes and held her tightly until he knew Gaius would start to wonder where he was. They rose slowly. Merlin still couldn’t believe what was happening, that anyone’s life could be so complicated in such an archaic way, and Freya—Freya was the one who least deserved it, in his eyes.

He moved to kiss her cheek, as he often did when she was upset, but she turned her face and their lips met instead. There was nothing happy or alive about the kiss: it was sad, fading from the moment it started, fleeting, wet. She pulled away with tears on her cheeks. Freya ran off before Merlin could ask about what had just happened.

Merlin made his way back toward the lab slowly, the file under his arm.

“Merlin!”

He turned around. Arthur was jogging toward him from his office.

“Hello, Arthur,” Merlin said. Arthur made a face.

“What’s with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re upset.”

“No, I’m fine. I’ve got work to do, if you don’t mind.”

“I—I wanted to know if you wanted to get that coffee after work,” Arthur said. Merlin looked at him: the man looked absurdly hopeful for someone trying to alleviate his guilt over injuring a coworker.

“Erm, not today. I’m… helping Freya with something after work.”

“Oh. Okay. She seems a bit off today. Is she okay?”

Merlin said nothing. Arthur nodded, understanding.

“Right, then,” Arthur said, already backpedalling toward his office and not quite meeting Merlin’s eyes. “I’ll leave you to your work, then.”

“Arthur!”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Merlin wanted to call out to him again, but Arthur was already shutting the door to his office. Suddenly everything felt _wrong_ , and at least a little like he was missing something.

***

Merlin told Gaius he wasn’t feeling well and clocked out early. He was certain he’d undone half of the healing on his chest in an attempt to pull his arms through his coat and grab his messenger bag at the same time. He rubbed his chest gingerly as he waited for the lift. The doors opened and Merlin nearly barreled right into Uther Pendragon.

“Oh, er. Sorry, sir,” he said, not meeting Uther’s glare. He said nothing in response, and said nothing for the majority of the ride. Five floors from the lobby, he turned to Merlin.

“You’re the boy who was throwing sugar at my son a few days ago,” he stated, looking at him.

“Yeah, about that—”

“I don’t condone such behavior between my employees.”

“Of course, sir.”

Uther paused; he seemed to be chewing on his tongue, or deeply conflicted about something.

“What was the reason for it?” he finally asked, just as the doors opened.

“He dumped a bucket of water on my head, and then punched holes in my tea and burned me,” Merlin said calmly. “I put salt in his tea, and then the sugar thing. It was all in good fun. I don’t suppose you understand that, sir.”

Uther gaped. Merlin started to walk away. He suddenly had no idea why he thought it would be smart to mouth off to his boss and wanted to get away before Uther could fire him.

“Mr. Emrys,” Uther said, stopping Merlin in his tracks. _How the hell does he know my name?_ “This behavior is unacceptable—unless I made a mistake in hiring you, if you don’t understand that.”

“No, sir.”

“You’re lucky my son thinks so fondly of you,” Uther added before stalking off. Merlin stared open-mouthed after him. A loud laugh yanked him out of his confused thoughts.

“That—that, Merlin, was _the_ most entertaining thing I’ve seen all day,” Gwaine said, barely controlling his laughter.

“Shouldn’t you be in an office?” Merlin grumbled.

“You know me, I like to drift,” he said, flipping his hair. Merlin rolled his eyes; Gwaine only did it so often to annoy him. “So, Arthur Pendragon thinks fondly of you, eh?”

“Shove off,” Merlin said, though he was starting to smile already.

“Does he now?” Gwaine said. Merlin elbowed him and hurried through the revolving door. “Hang on—what’s the rush?”

“I’ve got plans and I don’t want to be late,” he said, pointing toward the Tube.

“We’re all heading to the pub tonight. Come by if you’re free.”

“Sure, Gwaine. I’ve really got to run now.”

Gwaine shrugged, waving, and went back inside the building. Merlin didn’t look back; he went to his apartment, packed a weekend bag and as much cash as he could find, and dug up his key to Freya’s apartment. He ran down four flights from his flat and all the way to the Tube; he was out of breath and people were staring, but Merlin didn’t care. His whole chest hurt and was definitely bleeding through the gauze he hadn’t bothered to change.

_Arthur’s going to yell at me for that_ , Merlin thought as he ran a little madly up the steps of the Tube stop near Freya’s flat. He remembered the look on Arthur’s face when he’d told him he was busy and felt a pang of—of _something_. Guilt wasn’t quite right, because it was at least twenty percent confusion, but there was something else there, too. Merlin didn’t like how it felt. Whatever it was, Merlin would deal with it later; Freya was his focus now.

He was glad her flat was only on the second floor of the building. He knocked before unlocking the door.

“Freya?”

Merlin looked around. The flat was silent. The surfaces were clear and tidy, as always, but judging by the slightly ajar drawers in Freya’s bedroom and the clothes she’d worn to work bunched up in her hamper, she had been here, and was long gone.

He found the note on the nightstand next to a photo of the two of them in Russell Square last spring. They’d gone out with Gwaine, Gwen, and a few others from work and gotten incredibly drunk; the only good and decent-looking result of the night was this photo, which Merlin knew Freya kept on her dresser with others.

_Be as good to others (you know who!) as you were to me_

_Love, Freya_

Merlin didn’t know how long he sat on the floor in her room, letting a few tears fall but mostly feeling like crap. Like he could have done more. Like he could have put forth a better argument. Like he could have stopped her, or done something more to keep her safe.

Eventually, Merlin rose. In the mirror in the bathroom, he looked like shit; he waited until he looked, well, less shitty. He folded the note and the photo, stowed them in his pocket, and locked the flat’s door behind him, leaving his key on the kitchen counter.

“Oi!”

Merlin spun around. A decidedly mean-looking man was walking toward him. Merlin held his ground.

“Do you know Freya Waters?” the man asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“An old friend. I was supposed to visit her this weekend,” he said, looking concerned, “but I haven’t heard from her. I thought since you just came down from her building you might know her.”

“Oh, er. No. I think she’s my friend’s neighbor, but I never met Freya,” Merlin said. He took a couple of unsteady steps back, gripping his bag tightly. “I’ve got to—”

“Listen here, boy,” the man said, grabbing Merlin by the front of his shirt and throwing him against the wall of the building. “I think you’re lying to me. Do you know how much she’s worth to me? More than your life, you can bet. Talk.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Merlin exclaimed. The man’s arm pressed down across his throat.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, leaning in close to Merlin’s face.

“I don’t—,” Merlin choked. The man laughed harshly.

“You’re making this difficult, boy. Tell me where she went.”

“I don’t know this girl!”

“Oh?”

Merlin felt him pull the photo out of his pocket and unfold it with his free hand. He made a thoughtful face before punching Merlin in the gut. He gasped, his knees giving way. The man held him up against the wall, pressing Merlin’s head against the wall so intensely he was sure he was bleeding; he was winding up another punch when someone not far away shouted at him.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

_Arthur?_

The man released Merlin. He heard Arthur shouting and the man making excuses, and then the man running away, all while Merlin knelt on the ground and waited for his sight to clear up.

“Merlin?”

He looked up from the ground. Arthur was crouching beside him, watching him. His hand hovered by Merlin’s shoulder, as though he were unsure what to do with it.

“How did you get here?”

“I drove out here to check on Freya, and you’re lucky I did,” Arthur frowned. “Care to explain?”

“Erm, not here.”

“How far is your flat?”

“Couple of stops and a ten minute walk,” Merlin said, wincing as Arthur helped him up. “I’m fine, Arthur. I’m not a baby.”

“Shut up, Merlin. Come on; mine’s closer. We’ll get you cleaned up and you’ll explain why my secretary disappeared in the middle of the day,” Arthur said. “Now let’s go before that thug comes back with reinforcements.”

***

Merlin decided he trusted Arthur enough to tell him what he knew of Freya’s story; as her (former) employer and friend, Merlin thought Arthur needed to know. Arthur listened attentively, not interrupting once, but nodding at all the right times. His face was a mask.

“You swear you won’t tell anyone?” Merlin asked anxiously when he finished, leaning close to Arthur as though someone would overhear them in the privacy of Arthur’s flat. “If anyone else hears, she could be in worse trouble. That guy could find her.”

“I promise, Merlin.”

“Pinky-swear?”

Arthur stared at him. Merlin held out his finger; Arthur kept staring. Merlin burst out laughing and Arthur pushed him off his absurdly comfortable couch.

“Hey! I’m injured!” Merlin shouted.

“It’s a battle wound, Merlin. Wear it proudly.”

“I’m still bleeding, you clotpole!”

Arthur plopped down beside Merlin with pain medication, water, and a first aid kid.

“Again with the names?” he said, turning Merlin around so he could inspect the bleeding on the back of his head. “Clotpole? What does that even mean?”

“In two words? Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur pushed him off the couch again; he landed less than gracefully. “Oh, get up; I don’t want you bleeding on my carpet.”

“How considerate,” Merlin said. He climbed back onto the couch and let Arthur clean out the wound on the back of his head in silence.

“This is becoming too much of a habit for comfort, Merlin,” Arthur said when he finished. “You need to be more careful.”

“The first time was your fault,” Merlin said pointedly.

“Fair enough,” Arthur conceded. Arthur returned to the couch with two mugs of tea. “I know why you didn’t want to go now, but I’d still like to take you out for coffee.”

Their fingers brushed when Merlin took his mug from him; the contact sent a shock through his whole body. Arthur took a long drink of his tea, which was still steaming. He made a choking sound and nearly dropped his mug. Merlin took it from him hastily and clapped him on the back, laughing.

“You find my pain enjoyable?” Arthur coughed. He was smiling at Merlin, practically fucking blinding him with that smile. Merlin let his hand rest on Arthur’s back a little longer than necessary.

“Me? No, of course not. I just found that very…”

“Stupid?” Arthur supplied, scrunching up his face.

“Karmic,” Merlin nodded. He drank some of his tea—and nearly died choking it down. He sputtered and coughed, Arthur cackling on his back on the couch beside him. “You—you put salt in this!”

“Fair’s fair, Merlin!”

Merlin grabbed the pillow beside him and whacked Arthur with it with all his might. Arthur sat up, his lips a perfect _Oh_ , and he swung the nearest pillow at Merlin’s head. Merlin jumped out of the way, shocking both of them. Arthur rose slowly, pillow at the ready, his grin still blinding Merlin. The sun streaming through the window caught his golden hair and he might have been a proper warrior in another life, Merlin thought. He shook his head and let his face split in a manic grin—now was _not_ the time to go soft.

“This is _war_ , Pendragon,” he declared and launched himself at Arthur pillow-first.

***

They were in a heap on the floor still pummeling each other with pillows when there came a knock on the door. Arthur froze; much to Merlin’s chagrin, he was essentially on top of him, straddling his hips, the pillow aimed at his face.

“What? Who is it?” Merlin asked.

“Morgana, probably,” Arthur groaned.

“Well, get up and answer it. You’re crushing me,” Merlin said, trying to push Arthur off him.

“Are you still calling me fat, Merlin?” Arthur asked with a grin that made Merlin squirm. He pulled a face and tried to wriggle away, but Arthur caught him and pulled him into a headlock, digging his knuckles into his skull (and carefully avoiding his injury).

“Ow! Stop! No you’re not fat! Get off!”

Arthur released him and fell back laughing. “That’s better,” he said. He caught Merlin looking pensive, thoughts clearly straying to Freya. “She’ll be okay, Merlin. Freya’s more than capable of taking care of herself. I always thought she had these hidden claws somewhere.”

“Oh, she’s got them,” Merlin agreed.

“Open up, Arthur! I know you’re there,” Morgana shouted while knocking heavily. Arthur rose, throwing the pillow back at Merlin’s face, and went to the door.

“Morgana. What do you need?”

“Can’t I pay my brother a visit?” she said, sweeping into the flat. Merlin was still on the floor and, frankly, a little afraid to make his presence known. Morgana didn’t seem to be in the best of moods.

“So is it the Mercia deal again, or another pub night you’re trying to rope me into?”

Merlin heard Arthur in the kitchen making tea. A chair scraped across the floor, followed by a heavy purse landing with a _thunk_.

“You look like you could do with a stiff one,” Morgana said. Merlin eased himself back onto the couch; Morgana sat at the breakfast bar with her back to him. Arthur shot him a look of pure desperation. “I know I could. Mordred—”

“We are _not_ discussing your newest toy,” Arthur interrupted.

“Poor Mordred had to stay late to sanitize the lab after we finished up there,” Morgana went on, ignoring him. “Good thing Merlin and Gaius left early.”

Merlin cleared his throat loudly. Morgana spun around.

“Oh, hello, Merlin,” she grinned. “Arthur didn’t mention he had company,” she said, shooting a deadly look at her brother.

“You came over unannounced, as usual,” he said calmly. “You didn’t give me the chance.”

“Details, Arthur,” Morgana said, waving him into silence. She turned to Merlin. “Are you coming to the pub tonight? Gwaine told me he mentioned it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but maybe I will,” Merlin said. He ran his hands over his face tiredly. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“ _You_ look like you need it,” Morgana said, squinting at Merlin. “Come on, boys, it’s Friday night. We’re closing the Mercia deal on Monday morning. We are _celebrating_.”

Neither Merlin nor Arthur said anything. Unfortunately, Morgana took this as a yes from both of them.

“Excellent. They’re already down there; I was on my way,” she said. Morgana threw Merlin’s coat at him.

“Fine,” Merlin said. “Arthur?”

He looked over at the kitchen. Arthur was studiously chewing on his fingernails. Morgana, rolling her eyes, rose to use the toilet. Merlin crossed over to the kitchen where Arthur stood looking supremely uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Merlin said, frowning.

“No, I do, I just… I don’t really feel like company tonight,” he sighed.

“Oh,” Merlin said. He felt the bottom of his stomach drop out of him. “I—I could have left sooner. I’m sorry if—”

“No, no. You shouldn’t apologize. I don’t really want everyone else’s company,” Arthur said carefully. Merlin took another step towards him, a curious smile on his lips that Arthur quickly mirrored.

“And what about mine?”

“Yours…,” Arthur released a tiny laugh and looked down. “I like your company.”

“And I, yours,” Merlin smiled back.

“Even though you keep getting hurt around me?”

“It’s not so bad; I can count on you to patch me up, just like you can count on me,” Merlin said.

The gap between them closed quickly, Arthur pulling Merlin closer to him with a hand on his hip. The tips of their noses brushed and Arthur smiled. Merlin rested his forehead against Arthur’s. He breathed out slowly; finally that _something_ was starting to make sense, making Merlin wonder how the hell he’d been missing this.

“Merlin…,” Arthur said, his breath ghosting over Merlin’s lips. His stomach somersaulted at the way Arthur said his name; he felt like a teenager all over again, drowning in feelings he didn’t quite understand beyond _I really like you_ and _I need you so much closer_.

Morgana’s heels clacked loudly on the hardwood floor when she reentered the kitchen. Merlin and Arthur sprang apart. If Merlin looked anywhere near as flushed and thrown as Arthur did, hair sticking up from carding through it, hands awkwardly running along the countertop—well, it wouldn’t have made it hard for Morgana to put two and two together.

“So! Pub?” she asked, clearly struggling to hide a smirk.

“I’m… going to pass, I think,” Merlin said, looking over at Arthur boldly. When Arthur didn’t so much as look back at him or even acknowledge a word he’d said, he said, “I’m tired. I need to get some sleep.”

Merlin brushed past Morgana and pulled his coat on. The tight and freshly broken skin on his chest smarted worse than before; Arthur hadn’t fixed it up yet that day, he’d only looked at his head. But suddenly Arthur was there, helping him into his coat, fixing his collar and letting his fingers linger on Merlin’s neck. He touched Merlin’s chest lightly.

“Change that gauze when you get home,” Arthur said in a low voice.

_I’d rather you did it_ , Merlin so desperately wanted to say, but he refrained. Morgana was still watching them with frightening intensity. He nodded, and, somehow, Arthur seemed to understand anyway.

“Okay, enough of this,” Morgana interrupted. “I’ll be frank here. You two are a little sickening, and by sickening I mean ridiculous. We were planning to get you both spectacularly drunk and lock you in the loo at the pub or a closet or something like that. So, spare us all the trouble and snog the life out of each other, will you?”

“Morgana—,” Arthur sputtered. Merlin grabbed his wrist before he could move.

“It’s fine,” Merlin said quietly. He turned to Morgana. “I’ll call you later, Morgana.”

“You’d better not! If you’re coherent enough to call me later, I’ll hunt you both down and lock you up,” she said. Morgana left without another word, leaving Merlin and Arthur equally stunned.

They let the silence settle.

Arthur slid his hand over Merlin’s and laced their fingers together; he started pulling Merlin deeper into the flat. Merlin followed, not asking questions. He led him to the bathroom and gestured for Merlin to sit, so he did.

“Take your shirt off,” Arthur said as he opened the medicine cabinet and started rummaging. Merlin gave him a look. “That’s not what I meant, _Mer_ lin. I just want to change your gauze. Unless—unless you’d rather I didn’t? I thought—”

“No, you got it right,” Merlin interjected hastily. He removed his coat and shirt quickly and started unwinding the old gauze. Arthur unwrapped a fresh roll; he set it on the sink by a tube of ointment. “Did you get those for me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur said, but the way his whole face and neck turned bright red spoke differently. Merlin grinned. “Shut up, Merlin.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Arthur knelt by Merlin’s side and took the dirty gauze away from him. Merlin shuddered when Arthur touched the tender skin on his chest and smeared the ointment over the blisters and broken skin. Merlin relaxed into his touch as the pain eased.

“Better?” Arthur asked.

“Much,” Merlin nodded.

Arthur slid into the space between Merlin’s legs to wrap the gauze around his chest. Merlin couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Arthur asked, leaning into the space near the intersection of Merlin’s neck and chest as he grabbed the other end of the gauze behind him. Merlin squirmed; he knew he was growing harder with every second, and soon enough it’d be obvious to Arthur.

“I’ve got Arthur Pendragon on his knees between my legs.”

“Why is that funny?”

“It’s just… not something I expected I’d see.”

“Well, seeing as we didn’t exactly meet until a few weeks,” Arthur said.

“But I knew who you were,” Merlin insisted. “Gwen, remember? And I’m friends with Morgana. Sure, we’d never met, but I’d heard enough about you to dislike you on principle, mostly because they wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Morgana doesn’t talk to me about her little friends,” Arthur muttered. “I told her to stop after she started sleeping with most of them. Oh god—don’t tell me you’ve slept with her.”

“Nope, I’m 100% gay, no matter how glorious her tits are,” Merlin said. Arthur looked considerably relieved.

“Good.”

“She just likes to take me shopping and dress me up in clothes I can’t buy because only Morgana can afford them,” Merlin added. “It’s a bit of a nightmare.”

“I know. She used to do that to me when we were in high school. I made sure I didn’t attend the same uni as her,” Arthur said. Merlin looked at him questioningly. “She went to Cambridge, I went to St. Andrews.”

“Really?” Merlin asked. “I went to Edinburgh.”

“We’ve been missing each other for a while, then,” Arthur chuckled. “I spent summers in Edinburgh, and a year after finishing uni.”

“I was probably still there doing medicine,” Merlin nodded. Arthur looked like he had another question on his lips, but Merlin quickly said, “Er, Arthur? Can you—?”

Merlin gestured at the gauze, which Arthur had holding in place without clipping.

“Oh. Yeah. Just a second—”

He secured the material in place and leaned away, still kneeling between Merlin’s knees. Arthur placed his hands on Merlin’s legs and ran them slowly up his thighs until his face was inches away from Merlin’s again. His thumbs kneaded the soft skin on this inside of Merlin’s thighs, utterly agonizing and wrecking him.

“I’d, uh. I really want to take you out for coffee,” Arthur said, his voice gravelly and bespeaking a different kind of want. Merlin swallowed dryly. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about you. I can’t put my finger on it. But it makes me want to know everything about you, and be with you all the time. God, since the day you ran into me, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“ _I_ ran into _you_?” Merlin sputtered. “You can’t be serious. You ran me over and then you yelled at me! I decided you were my mortal enemy.”

“Did you, now?” Arthur smirked.

“I did! And—well, maybe I was a little wrong.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t think you’re enemy material. Under all that perfect hair and the stupid arrogance, I think you’re too good a person for most of us. And I like you, far more than I should,” Merlin blurted. “Have—is that what the coffee was? Have you just been trying to ask me out?”

“Yes! Wha—didn’t you realize that?”

“No! No. I mean. Maybe I was a little busy plotting my revenge and dealing with Freya’s problems to notice that.”

Arthur cupped Merlin’s face in his hands.

“She’s going to be okay. I promise. I’ll make sure of it, if I can find a safe way to do it,” Arthur said. “Okay?”

Merlin nodded, loving the feel of his palm on his cheek. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He felt better than he had all day.

“God, you’re positively _purring_ ,” Arthur laughed, his face suddenly a lot closer to Merlin’s.

Merlin kicked him and sent Arthur landing flat on his back. Merlin stood and offered Arthur a hand; he took it and, the moment they were both on their feet, Arthur took Merlin’s face in his hand and kissed him. The contact sent a lightning strike right through Merlin; he almost fell over backwards, but Arthur held him with a hand on the small of his back, the other still on his neck, his thumb pressed against his jaw.

Then, when the shock wore off, Merlin yielded instantly, opening his mouth to him when Arthur swiped his tongue over his lip. He kissed back, and kissed with all the want he’d been ignoring these last few weeks. Merlin let his hands tangle in his hair, roam over Arthur’s chest, his nails scraping at the fabric of his shirt, all the way down to his hips. He tugged at his belt loops, bringing his hips right up against Merlin’s. He could feel Arthur’s arousal through his trousers, and Merlin was certain Arthur could feel Merlin’s, judging by the little smile that invaded their kiss.

The kiss became hungrier, all tongue and clashing lips and no finesse, and their hips grinded together in tiny circular motions. Merlin clawed at the buttons on Arthur’s shirt and started undoing them, pausing every now and then to tease at his nipples and elicit an impatient moan from Arthur’s lips. Merlin took a small step back and started kissing Arthur’s neck, moving slowly to a spot just below the collar to suck a love bite. Arthur groaned.

“God—I shouldn’t have even tried to be subtle with you,” he said, touching Merlin’s skin at his midsection a little obsessively while Merlin worked. He dug his fingers under waistband of his trousers. “Y—you can’t even imagine how mad you’ve been driving me.”

“Mmm?” Merlin said, pulling away from his neck. “I don’t know about that. You’ve been driving me off the walls.”

“My wrist has been killing me lately from thinking about you at night, touching myself,” Arthur whispered into Merlin’s ear. He yanked Merlin out of the bathroom and pinned him against the wall in the hall. “Hell, even once at the office, after I fixed you up yesterday.”

“You what?” Merlin croaked. Arthur, kissing his way down Merlin’s front, smiled. Arthur dropped to his knees and started undoing Merlin’s trousers. Merlin made a desperate sound and let his head fall back against the wall.

“You left me so hard, so I locked the door and imagined it was your hand on my cock,” Arthur murmured. “Or your lips. Those gorgeous, lovely lips.”

Merlin’s mouth fell open. 

“God, Arthur,” Merlin moaned. Merlin reached for Arthur’s trousers, but Arthur pushed his hands away.

“Let me. I… really want to do this,” Arthur said. Merlin met his eyes: they were sincere, making him look so young, and his pupils were blown wide and black. Merlin swallowed and nodded.

Arthur dropped to his knees and started undoing Merlin’s trousers. Merlin made a desperate sound and let his head fall back against the wall. His trousers fell to the ground, followed by his boxers. Merlin could feel Arthur’s lips close to the tip of his aching cock. He nosed it, letting the precome smear across his cheek as he kissed the base.

“Fucking hell, Arthur, get on with it!” Merlin groaned.

“Bossy,” Arthur mumbled, running his lips along the shaft. He looked up with a small smile. “God, you look beautiful like this.”

“Begging?”

“I wouldn’t say you’re begging just yet,” Arthur said thoughtfully, then breaking into a wicked grin, “and I won’t make you—not just yet.”

He fitted his lips over the end of Merlin’s cock and lapped up the moisture accumulating on the end. He pressed his tongue to the slit and Merlin’s knees nearly gave way. Arthur took more and more of him in, his tongue working greater and greater miracles as worked his mouth around Merlin, licking deliberately along the vein on the underside. He hollowed his cheeks as he took Merlin down to the root and sucked _hard_. Merlin whimpered.

He grabbed at Arthur’s hair, working an apology into the gibberish spilling from his mouth. He was trying hard not to thrust, but Arthur gave him a quick, knowing look saying it was ok. Merlin let go of a little control and gave a few small thrusts. Arthur met him each time, his cock hitting the back of Arthur’s throat a few times, but he didn’t seem to mind. Arthur looked up at him and—god _damn_ it, he looked so incredible, so pleased, so _good_ —the look in his eyes pushed Merlin over the edge before he could even warn Arthur with little more than pulling at his hair. He came almost violently down Arthur’s throat, his vision whiting out. Arthur swallowed it all down, and he rose to his feet to kiss Merlin; he could taste himself on Arthur’s tongue. Merlin took Arthur in hand and after a few quick, solid strokes, Arthur was coming, too, crying out Merlin’s name into his neck.

They shakily leaned against each other for support. It was dark in the hall, and once Merlin’s breathing returned to normal, it was a little cold, considering his nakedness. The fabric of Arthur’s work clothes felt harsh compared to his soft skin.

“You. Clothes,” Merlin murmured. “Off, please.”

“I don’t think—”

“No, me neither, not yet, but y’know. Let’s be fair. I’m naked, you’re not. Unless you’ve really got layers of Spanx under there,” Merlin grinned.

“Well, how about you put on your pants, I take these clothes off, and we’ll go to bed?” Arthur suggested. “Is that fair, _Mer_ lin?”

“I suppose.”

Merlin gathered his clothes and let Arthur take his hand and lead him to his bedroom. It was simple and relatively clean with few personal accents, but, god, _the bed_. It looked fit for a king: massive, soft, with pristine sheets and pillows. Arthur pushed him down on top of the covers.

“I don’t think I’m ever leaving. This bed is amazing,” Merlin muttered, hugging a pillow to his face. Arthur pushed him over and got in bed. Merlin looked up and fuck if he wasn’t a Greek god under the work clothes, made of the right proportions of muscles and softness, with a dusting of golden hair on his chest and a thin layer of cooling sweat on his skin.

“Oh, hell, I’m never leaving now,” Merlin said. Arthur grinned and hit him with one of the pillows. Merlin halfheartedly hit him back, but he was too exhausted to move. He curled up against Arthur, who readily pulled him into his arms. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” he murmured into Merlin’s hair. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing, Merlin.”

“Neither do I. I—I want to get to know you.”

“I think I got that,” Arthur said playfully. Merlin poked him between the ribs. “Ow!”

“Well, biblically, yes, but for real,” Merlin said. “How about that coffee?”

“Tomorrow, maybe?” Arthur asked. “I promise I won’t put any salt in yours if you don’t put any in mine.”

“It’s a truce,” Merlin said mildly. He laced his fingers through Arthur’s and let their hands rest on Arthur’s stomach. “Is it… is it okay if I stay here tonight? I’m still a little shaken up by this whole Freya thing.”

“Merlin, stay the night, stay the whole weekend—stay as long as you’d like,” Arthur said softly. He kissed Merlin’s temple, then his cheekbone. He worked his way down Merlin’s face. “We’ll order some Indian food, watch movies, and stay in bed for as long as we like.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said. Arthur leaned over Merlin and looked at him seriously.

“No more dancing around this _thing_ we’ve had going for a while now.”

“No more subtlety. I can’t handle that anymore,” Merlin agreed. “So was burning me with tea supposed to be a subtle signal for _I think you’re kinda nifty_?”

“ _Nifty_ , Merlin? What are you, eighty?”

“No, but apparently we’re a couple of five-year-olds.”

“True.”

“So?”

“The tea was just a mean prank but… remember when we were fighting with the sugar? If I wasn’t a goner yet, I was after that. God. I wanted to lick it off your cheekbones and… perhaps other parts of you. If my father hadn’t walked in, I’m pretty sure all this would’ve happened a lot sooner,” Arthur said. He looked like he was seriously considering going out to the nearest Tesco to buy some sugar. Merlin stored the idea away for another time.

“Your father told me you’re fond of me,” Merlin said with a bright grin.

“What?” Arthur shouted, his voice cracking. Merlin rolled over, laughing, and propped himself up to look at Arthur.

“I ran into him in the lift earlier, basically said he’d have fired me for what we were doing that day if you weren’t fond of me,” Merlin said, running his fingers through Arthur’s soft hair. Arthur fell back on the pillows with a groan.

“Morgana must’ve said something. All I did was assure him it was my fault at my instigation and that you weren’t to blame,” Arthur said gruffly. Merlin raised his eyebrows. Arthur glared at him; rather than attack again with a pillow or something silly, he bent forward and kissed him. Arthur smiled into the kiss and yielded instantly to him, and they lost themselves to each other for a very long time after that.

 

***

 

**Epilogue**

 

Merlin was sitting at his desk at the office when the new girl in Morgana’s office came in. She was Gwen’s assistant; she needed one now having been freshly promoted to the position one step below Morgana herself.

“Er, Merlin, right?” she said, walking up to his desk, her hands knotted up.

“Yes! You’re Gwen’s assistant,” Merlin said.

“Sefa,” she nodded. “I… realize this is unconventional, but—here.”

She handed Merlin an unmarked envelope and ran out the door. Merlin stared after her, feeling completely bewildered. He opened the envelope: it held a handwritten letter and a photo.

_Merlin,_

_Thank Arthur for all the help he gave me. I didn’t want to risk sending two letters, and I very much wanted to write to you. I can’t tell you where I am, but know that I’m safe. I’m with other people like me who’ve suffered at Halig’s hands. The man who keeps us safe is powerful; his name is Ruadan. I can’t say much else, other than thank you._

_I hope you’re well, and that you’re happy. Someday I hope to return to London, but that won’t be until Halig is far away from us._

_Love, Freya_

_PS–the photo is of where I grew up. I made a stop on the way to where I am now._

Merlin unfolded the photo; it was of a deep blue lake surrounded by lush greenery and snowy mountains. Small houses dotted the banks of the lake. He tucked the photo and the letter in his breast pocket and set off to find Arthur. Luckily, he wasn’t in a meeting. His new secretary, a mousy man named Cedric, didn’t even acknowledge Merlin. Merlin was convinced the man was jealous of him on some level, but Arthur only found his speculations amusing.

He knocked.

“Enter.”

Arthur looked up from a massive stack of papers.

“Merlin,” he said, all the tension in his face instantly melting into a smile reserved for Merlin alone. He stood and walked around the desk to properly greet him. When they finally broke apart (ignoring Cedric’s loud coughs, of course), Merlin told him about Freya’s letter.

“Thank god. That’s really wonderful,” he beamed.

“I’m glad she’s happy and safe,” Merlin agreed. “I feel a hell of a lot better now.”

“I think we should celebrate,” Arthur declared. He snaked his arm around Merlin and pulled him close, nibbling on his neck as he spoke. “We’ll go out to the pub, get spectacularly drunk, and make use of that sugar we finally got around to buying.”

“It’s a Tuesday; we can’t get _spectacularly drunk_ ,” Merlin gasped. “Arthur! That’s going to show!”

“Let it. Everyone knows anyway,” he murmured.

“Fine,” Merlin conceded.

“I’ll cook us something nice tonight. I have this cool new recipe I want to try out.”

Merlin pulled away and made a face.

“You can’t cook for shit, Arthur.”

“I’m learning!”

“Very slowly.”

“Fine. How about we go out for a nice dinner? What’s Freya’s favorite?”

“Strawberries,” Merlin said automatically. “It’s—it’s been about a year, hasn’t it? That means the festival should be soon. How about we go?”

“I do love strawberries,” Arthur said thoughtfully. Merlin kissed him soundly, backing him up against the wall of the office with a loud thunk. Arthur knocked over a trash bin in the process.

“Oi! I’m not cleaning up that sort of mess!” Cedric shouted.

“Maybe... we should. Just to piss him off,” Merlin said mischievously. Arthur slapped his arse lightly and stepped away.

“I’ve got a meeting in ten,” he said, sitting in his desk chair and spinning toward him. Merlin pouted. “Tomorrow’s another day, though.”

“True. We can’t lose this war, Arthur. I won’t allow it.”

“I don’t recall you being quite so competitive when we were doing this.”

“He’s an overgrown weasel! He wants to overthrow us all,” Merlin said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“You’ve been breathing in the fumes in the lab for too long, love,” Arthur said fondly. “Go on. I’ll see you at five.”

“I’m finishing early today, at noon, actually. I need to go with Gaius to an appointment in Surrey,” Merlin said. “Nothing serious, I hope, but he wanted company.”

“Fair enough.”

“See you at home?” Merlin asked, taking note to order Arthur’s favorite food tonight, for no concrete reason at all.

“Absolutely.” 


End file.
